


Beginning of the End

by Kayzo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Endverse, F/F, POV Second Person, Porn, Supernatural AU: Croatoan/End'verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2017-12-30 23:15:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1024545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayzo/pseuds/Kayzo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world is going to hell. Deanna doesn't want to think about it or what it's doing to her girly little angel. So anything that numbs her mind for at least a bit is a, well, we're not going to call it a godsend...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beginning of the End

It’s late, half past one, and she was supposed to be back by now. You’re still up (of course you are, it’s not like you could have fallen asleep in this shitty motel without her), and a part of you knows why you’re doing this, coming down so hard on Cas when all you want to do is the same damn thing. But you can’t linger on it too long because then you’ll be thinking about it and you don’t want to because you’ll be six sheets to the wind and volatile and more dangerous than you already are and we are _not_ talking about it.

The door jamb shakes with a clatter. You’re already up, sitting on the bed closest to the door fully clothed in soft jeans and an old ACDC tee shirt so there’s no point in pretending to be asleep, even if most nights now a days are spent fully clothed, asleep or not.

Cas doesn’t seem to care if you were sleeping or not, when she finally gets the door unlocked; there’s nothing quite or considerate about her entrance. It’s all stumbled footing with heavy breathing interlaced with sharp bursts of bitter laughter.

She’s gorgeous as ever—even if you can smell the whiskey on her breath from where you’re sitting—long wavy hair tousled just so, her normal, oversized jacket still hung over the back of the motel room’s only chair, leaving her in a simply white blouse, blue handkerchief tied around her neck and black skirt that does nothing to hide her practical black boots that retain their femininity with a small heel. She looks smaller, fragile without the extra bulk of the coat, but still, that’s normal. That’s not the part that has your heart feeling squeezed by a vice and the taste of bile in the back of your throat.

It’s her eyes, blue as ever, but not the clear, sharp blue that always seemed to be able to pull you apart with a glance and put you together again just as easily. The blue is clouded and watery and even when she looks straight at you, it’s not you she’s seeing.

“Dean” your chosen nickname falls from her lips, thoughtlessly accompanied by a loose, easy smile that sends a shiver down your spine.

“I’m surprised you made it back. Didn’t just fall into a ditch somewhere and pass out,” you say, voice rough from disuse. The last time you talked was when you screamed at Cas before she stormed out, finally getting fed up, and that was a long while ago.

She ignores you, or doesn’t hear you.Either way, she makes her way towards where you are, sitting on the edge of the bed, hindered by obstacles only existent to her. And in this moment, you’re hyper aware of where you are; a run down, shit of a motel room with faded green walls and the ugliest patterned sheets this side of middle America nowhere. The lamp light is a pale, natural yellow that would be pretty anywhere but here, where instead it tinges everything with age and neglect. As if the owners are actually aware that it’s the beginning of the end of the world and have decided to stop giving a damn. Your left arm still hurts from when you fell on rubble in what was once Detroit three days ago (earthquake the news said. That had you both laughing long and hard for the first time in a long time) and your knees are skinned like a fucking _kid’s_ and—

Her breath is warm on your face, the smell less strong, somehow, and her hands on your thighs are spreading warmth through you like the shot of scotch you swore up and down you wouldn’t have earlier that night. She leans forward, and even though you know it’s going to happen, no question about it, it’s still a shock when her lips touch yours, wet with whisky and soft, so soft.

You’re frozen, detached as you watch her eyes slip closed and one hand comes to cup your cheek, tilting your head just so and parting your lips with a flick of her tongue (and where did she learn that?).

Next thing you know, you’re kissing her back, standing and pulling her closer to you when she stumbles. There’s nothing nice about the kiss, you’re angry (at her? Maybe, but you know that’s not it) and you take it out on her mouth, using too much teeth and biting the full bottom lip. She just gives it up so sweetly and that only makes you angrier. You release her mouth and she sinks into you and you know you’re the only thing holding her up. You’re mouth finds her neck, right where it meets shoulder and you bite. Hard. All she does is wind one hand in your short hair, the other gripping your shirt. You growl and her head tilts back, baring her pale neck like an offering.

You want this and she wants this, but that doesn’t stop you from wanting to hurt her like you are (even though it’s not her fault, even though you’ve hurt her so much more, even though you’re the one that did this to her in the first place). So you kiss up her neck, the air turning warm with your mixing want, and when you reach her ear, giving the lobe a hard bite, you rasp ‘Whore’, ‘Slut’, ‘Fucker’ and ‘Useless’.

And she must be further gone than you thought (can’t be, if anything, she’s less) or believe it (God no, don’t let it be true, because what does that make you? You who dragged her down to your level and clipped her wings so she could never fly away), because all she does is shudder against you and groan. Your fingers flirt with the hem of her skirt, brushing the skin there teasingly.

Cas’s hands leave you, but before you can vocalize your disapproval, her quick fingers are unbuttoning her shirt and she’s caught you in a searing kiss. She pulls her shirt off as if it has offended her, throwing it to the ground carelessly (and you cannot help but think she wouldn’t have done that before, let it fall in a wrinkled pile). Her hands are under your shirt in an instant, pushing it up until you have to raise your arms and even for the second it’ll take to pull the shirt over your head, she’s reluctant to pause the kiss (that, at least, has not changed).

Your shit follows Cas’s on the ground and when Cas claims your lips again you flip her around and push her on to the bed. And this is not what you had in mind when you waited up, this hot, small glimpse of heaven, the closest you’ll ever get (but that’s exactly what you had in mind, isn’t it), but you’re going to take it.

She looks beautiful. Hair messed up by your fingers, black and white lace bra heaving with her every breathe, lips spit slicked and shiny, pupils blown but eyes gloriously sharp as they take you in. That, more than anything, ignites a fire in the pit of your belly, warm and wanting.

You go forward, no longer content with looking, letting one hand run up her leg, not stopping when you reach her skirt but push it up, showing underwear that matches the bra, little bow right in the center. You can see she’s already wet, a spot visible through the fabric. You stop where you are, half over her, hand on her hip. You’re always surprised at how damn responsive she is.

She shifts beneath you and you slowly bring your gaze up her body, memorizing the curves, before locking eyes with her baby blues. She holds your gaze (like always) but there’s so much heat in them it threatens to burn you up. Her arms come up from where they were at her sides to catch you face, dragging you forward into a deep kiss, pressing so much skin together, but not nearly enough. 

Cas must think so too because her hands dance along your back to the clasp of your (plain, tan) bra, unhooking it deftly and only encountering minor trouble when you refuse to immediately remove your hands from her belly because you  love the way her muscles tighten and how she pushes into your hand’s sure touch.

Your bra is lost to one side of the room or the other, but you couldn’t care less because you get your hands under her and press up against her back until she’s flush with your chest, one hand unclasping her bra and she’s just as eager to get rid of it as you. She pulls it from between you and you’re kissing again, leaning fully onto her, hands running up and down her sides, the feel of warm, soft skin addicting.

One of Cas’s hands runs through your hair, giving it little tugs and earning her nips that make her smile. The other runs along your back, palm stopping at the dip of your spine and pressing you closer, fingers brushing against the hem of your jeans, making you shiver. She sucks your tongue into her mouth, pulling a groan from you and she moan in turn.

You finally (too soon) separate for air, but your lips don’t rest, going to the side of her neck not yet marred by teeth marks. You suck and nip at her throat, slotting a jean clad thigh in between her legs so when you worry the skin between your teeth and her breath hitches on a gasp and her hips press up, they grind against your leg and her hands tighten on you like if she doesn’t, she’ll be too lost in pleasure to return to you (never, that could never happen, not now. You both know that).

“ _Deanna_ ,” she breaths out on a shuddering breath, pushing her hips against your thigh again and again.

“Shh,” you hush between smirking lips, pushing her hips down with finality, pressing harder when she pushes against you, letting out a long whine.

“Shh, shh,” you repeat, pressing kisses against her jaw and neck, lower to her collarbone, not really meaning it one bit because you love it when she makes noise for you. She lets out needy little whimpers, hands abandoning your skin to bunch up in the sheets, head thrown to one side and hips still fighting to move as if the slow pace is killing her. You chuckle into the valley between her breasts.

You spread one hand across her lower stomach, more of a reminder to keep still than any practical means of stopping her from moving. The other you bring to her right breast, slowly needing it as you catch her left nipple in your mouth. You bite hard and pinch the other at the same time, loving the way she arches beneath you and cries out. You use the flat of your tongue and pads of your fingers to sooth them before sucking hard on her left nipple while rolling her right breast in the palm of your hand.

Her hands abandon the sheets and tangle in your hair as best they can, trying to push your head down with shaking fingers.  You smirk against her skin but give in, trailing lips and tongue down her navel, bunching her skirt up more before you go any lower. You lick at where lace meets skin, loving the taste of salt on her.

You pull away—she moans; wanting, needing, desperate—and look. Her panties are soaked through and you shift your hips with a groan—more aware of your own wet heat—breathing in deep, taking in her sent. It makes you lightheaded, almost dizzy, and you shiver.

And then you lean down and give one solid lick, right to her panties, pressing the fabric harder against her and tasting her through the cloth. Her head falls back and she lets out a long groan, hands tightening in your hair and legs falling further open. You lick again and again, long hard licks interlaid with short teasing flicks against her clit through the lacy things. Her head tosses from side to side as she brings one leg over your shoulder, boot pressing against your mid-back.

“Please, please, please, _Deanna_ ,” she gets out , “s-stop—” and from the way she stiffens, hands holding tighter in your hair and second leg  joining the first in an effort to keep you down because you do—stop. She all but howls in frustration.

“ _Deanna_ ” she pants, “ _touch_ me.”

You smirk, and it borders on cruel, but you love to do it and it makes her come so hard.

“But you said to stop—” she keens pathetically, “—what was that? You want me to get rid of these wet panties—‘cause they’re so wet, you’re so wet for me—you want me to eat you out? Lick you open until you’re dripping for it and my face is covered in your juice?” you let one hand pull at the end of the panties before letting them snap back.

Cas goes wild, nodding rapidly, breathing out little ‘yes’es and pulling your head to where she wants it most. You go when she gives one more frustrated tug at your hair, pulling her panties down with sharp jerks. She’s glistening and wet, light pink surrounded by dark curls. You blow softly and she rears up, hips moving closer to your face and hands pushing you down, but you hold fast.

“What do you want, Cas?” your voice comes out ravaged by lust and you look at her with half lidded eyes. She licks her full lips.

“ _Dee_ ,” she moans out the nickname, a flush starting to rise to her cheeks, and you love how, even with your face pressed inches from her pussy, the words still make her blush like the virgin she most assuredly is not. You move one hand to her hip, letting your thumb rub the skin tight around her hip bone in little circles, but do nothing more.

Cas whines, long and low before licking her lips again, hands nervously tightening and loosening in your hair.

“Lick me.” She gets out after several tries, face beat red. And that’s enough cruelty for now. You descend, dipping your tongue into her before bringing it up to flick across her clit.

Her head falls back and her hips tilt up and this time you don’t stop her, instead you encase her clit with your mouth and suck hard. She keens and writhes under you and you can’t help but smirk as best you can without letting up on the assault.

Your right hand snakes to her inner thigh, playing with the soft skin there before going to where it’s really wanted. One finger runs along her folds, not pressing in, just running along slick skin. You switch to short licks against her clit before dipping down, tongue entering her along with a solitary finger.

Little sounds escape her parted lips and she seizes around you, tight channel going tighter and you groan against her, making her choke on the sound in her throat. You push into her further, tongue and finger, twisting to go deeper, the taste of her filling your mouth, the smell of her feeding your own arousal.

Your hand not currently occupied goes down to your jeans, unbuttoning them and pulling them and your underwear as far down as you can manage, and slide one finger inside of yourself easily. Cas’s hands leave your hair and you open your eyes, unsure of when you closed them. She’s propped up on her elbows, hair cascading over her shoulders, breasts on display, cheeks and lips flushed red, lust blown blue eyes half hidden behind soot colored lashes; she’s beautiful.

You spread your own legs, giving your hand more room to work, and her eyes zone in on the movement. She lets out a soft, yearning, ‘ _ah_ ’ and you know there’s nothing she wants more than to taste you, and if that isn’t the hottest thing ever…

You move your lips back to her clit, move another finger inside her, and suck in time to your fingers thrusts. She falls back against the bed as if everything is entirely too much, hard, panting breaths filling the hot, empty space between you.

You crook your fingers, press harder and quicker into her inner wall, sucking and playing with her clit. She moves against you, fucking herself on your fingers. She makes little ‘ _ah, ah, ah_ ’ sounds that steadily rise in frequency and pitch, until she stops all together, mouth open in a silent wail. And then she’s jerking against you hard, saying _‘Dee, Dee, Dee’_ as fervently as any prayer, and in that moment you wonder if she sees home (and selfishly, if you’re in it).

You slow your movements, only giving small, calming licks to her pussy as she melts around you, sighing and mewling. You move your head to the side, where thigh meets torso and work yourself with more purpose, hitching breathes masked as you suck a bruise into her skin.

Cas makes a sound of discontent, and you don’t still your movements, but you look up to find yourself beckoned by her eyes. You groan at the loss when your fingers leave you, but you crawl up her on shaky arms regardless, dragging yourself against her as you move, leaving a wet trail all along her left leg and up her torso, wishing it could stay on her forever; a mark of possession, ownership.

Any claim heaven had on her is eclipsed by your own.

Her hands grab your thighs, lining you up with her mouth. One hand moves to caress your back and ass as she gently pulls you down. And that first touch of tongue to your aching need is like salvation in its purest form.

Your arms collapse in a strangled gasp, your legs spread further, getting you closer, and the only thing keeping your hips up is her hands on you. Your come covered hand reaches down and twists in her hair as you curl over her, pushing her hard against your wet heat and there is such a thing as miracles, because Cas understands the wordless command and doesn’t finesse it.

Two fingers push into you hard, twisting up and deep and you shudder over her. Her lips copy yours, sucking and licking at your clit with no mercy and you gasp and groan for more. She gives it.

In what seems like moments, the coil inside you shoots out in a flash. You can feel the warm liquid release. She continues to suck and touch you as you ride out your pleasure, rutting down against her, eliciting a moan.

You might have said ‘God’ when you came, or ‘Cas’ but either way, she won’t tell (who would she tell anyway? You’re the only one she’s got), so you focus on your ragged breathing and attempt to bring it back to normal.

When you feel at least a little bit more in control of yourself, you move down her body, and when your face is able to fall into the sweet spot in between her neck and shoulder, you collapse on top of her, boneless. She sighs into it, shifting under you slightly and you settle yourself more fully on top of her.

Absentmindedly, you suck on the skin in front of you, marveling at the change from pale white to flushed red. Your mind is occupied by this trivial thing; body too exhausted to be of any use in this moment is bliss.

Cas’s breath starts to even out, you feel it through your own chest. She’s falling asleep. She’s falling.

You don’t think you’ll get that reprieve tonight. You’re slowly becoming hyper aware of the sounds around you. You glance behind you; your gun’s where you left it on the side table, within easy reach. It won’t do much good if Lucifer shows up, but then, you don’t think you’d be able to shoot her anyway. Not with who she’s wearing.

Cas shifts in her sleep and your arms tighten around her. No. You are not thinking about _that_.

But then, of course, you already are. 

**Author's Note:**

> I enjoy writing genderbent/always-a-girl fic, but idk what the consensus on AO3 is...?


End file.
